


In an Instant

by PerfectMadness



Category: Emergency!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 08:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13632228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerfectMadness/pseuds/PerfectMadness
Summary: Some things should be done quickly, some things shouldn't.





	In an Instant

In an Instant  
Roy yawned deeply and stretched down to touch his toes as he waited for Johnny to exit the hospital with the supplies they replenished…for the third time. Dissatisfied with the lingering kinks in his muscles, Roy turned side-to-side a few times, then leaned away from the squad with his hands still resting against the side panels, and stretched his legs. It was not yet noon and the five runs since 8:15 that morning had taken their toll on the paramedic’s stamina. He desperately wanted to return to the station, have some lunch, and just…sit. He still had to sweep out the bay at some point, but that didn’t usually take too long, and John had to strip the beds and remake them, but that too was another tedious, but not difficult job. At least neither he nor John had to make lunch today, Roy thought. That took forever. 

“Yeesh, it’s been a long morning,” John grumbled, carrying the box of supplies through the ER doors. He tiredly rubbed his face several times with his free hand. “I’ll put these away when we get back to the station.” He opened the squad door, plopped himself in the seat, and exhaled loudly. 

Roy nodded in agreement. “Johnny, I’m so tired, I think I’m already tired tomorrow,” he said, flatly. 

The two drove back to the station in silence, Johnny wearily resting his head against the side of the door, and Roy, mutely counting down the minutes before he could pull the squad in and turn off the engine for a while. 

John spoke without opening his eyes. “Wonder what Chet’s got cookin' for lunch. I thought he said something about mashed potatoes, so I hope they didn’t get called out too much, ‘taters take a long time to peel.” He paused for second, “ Truth be told though, I can’t decide if I’m more hungry ‘er tired.” 

“Yeah…potatoes and gravy and sweet corn, and I think I saw some ham in the fridge. Hope he’s making that, too”, Roy added. His mouth began to water a bit, thinking about the long-awaited lunch. He glanced at his wrist watch. It had been hours since they last has anything to eat or drink, and really, he wasn’t sure a cup of coffee and two bites of a donut counted as breakfast anyway. 

Fortunately, Lady Luck decided to be merciful for the time being, and the squad bearing two exhausted paramedics was finally backed into the station and relieved of its duty. Roy and Johnny, as hungry as they were, sat in the stillness of the truck for a few seconds, wondering if there might be a chance Chet would bring the food to them. 

“It’d be nice to have a nap AND lunch, wouldn’t it?” Johnny asked. 

“Yep, “Roy answered with another sigh. “Let’s get in there and get some chow quick though, because you never…”

“Don’t! Don’t say it!” John interrupted. “You’ll jinx us.” 

Roy chuckled softly and closed his mouth. “Let’s go, Junior.” 

E!

The first stop was to the dorm to pick up the log book Roy left on the bench when they were called out the first time. “Well, hopefully, we’ll have time to write all the runs in here before…”

“Roy! Don’t say it, man!” Johnny protested. 

Roy chuckled, “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.”

“S’awright”, Johnny responded, then raised an eyebrow and inhaled deeply. “Roy?”

“Yeah?”

“How come I can’t smell anything cooking?”

Roy sniffed the air and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s already done?”

“Man, I hope Chet didn’t ruin lunch; I’m starved!”, Gage whined. 

The duo ambled into the kitchen, eagerly awaiting food. Chet was standing at the stove, an apron tied around his waist and an oven mitt on each hand.  
“Gentlemen! You have returned! I assume you are ready for lunch?” 

Over on the sofa, Mike rolled his eyes and raised the newspaper to hide his face. Marco muttered, “Oh, man, here he goes…” 

Immediately, Gage was on alert. “Something’s wrong with lunch, isn’t it, Chet?” 

“Au contraire, Gage, the others have already eaten. Your lunch will be ready in three minutes!”

Roy made a face. “Three minutes? Chet, we might not have three minutes.” 

With that, Chet whirled around and placed two trivets on the table, along with a large mixing bowl, two dinner plates, two coffee cups, two glasses, and two smaller bowls. “Sit!”, he commanded, “and enjoy!” On one trivet he placed a tea kettle of boiling water, on the other a pitcher of cold water from the tap. Roy and John pulled out their chairs and sat, skepticism written all over their faces. 

John tipped the mixing bowl to one side and inspected the white flakes inside it. He sniffed them, swished them around the bowl, moved them around with his spoon, then placed the bowl back down. “Chet,” he growled, “what is this stuff?” 

At the same time, Roy was intrigued by the contents of the small saucepan Chet added to the table. In it was a brown powder with no discernible scent. “Chet? Are you serving us dirt from that last mountainside rescue?”

“Watch and learn, my friends, watch and learn,” Chet countered. He poured hot water from the kettle into the large bowl of white flakes and stirred them with a fork. “Voila!” he announced as he handed the bowl back to Roy and John, “mashed potatoes! It’s like magic!” He scraped the sides of the mixing bowl several times with a spatula to mix the contents more thoroughly, scooped some of the white mush onto each plate, then snatched the saucepan from in front of Roy. To that, he added more of the boiling water, and stirred it briskly with a whisk. After a few seconds, he poured the newly made brown sauce on top of the pasty mound on the plates and said with a smile, “and here, is the gravy!”

John was nonplussed. “Che-e-e-t!” he snarled. “This is NOT mashed potatoes and gravy!”

“Sure it is, Gage,” Chet answered from over by the oven, “and here is your entree!” He poured a gritty, dry mix from a cardboard can into each of the smaller bowls and poured yet more hot water on that. He covered each bowl with a thick towel and commanded the two hungry medics not to touch. “It’s developing!”, he whispered conspiratorially to Roy. 

“Developing into what?” Roy mumbled. 

Next, Chet scooped a spoonful of brown crystals from a glass jar into each coffee cup and added hot water to that as well. “Coffee, gentlemen?”, he asked after stirring. “And I believe your entree is prepared!”

Marco and Mike snickered from across the room. “Entree…right,” Marco smiled, “Chet, you’re really digging this, aren’t you?”

“Marco, my friend, when you’re in this business, convenience and timing for every meal is essential. Roy and John, well, all of us really, never know when we’ll have to leave a hot meal on the table. These are just a few of the ways we can speed things up around here.” With a flourish, he removed the towels from atop the small bowls and revealed what appeared to be reconstituted chicken noodle soup. “With a few of these shortcuts, we can have a complete meal in less than half the time it would take to make it the usual way. It’s progress!”

Johnny took a tentative taste of the potatoes and gravy, while Roy lifted the cup to his mouth to take a sip of the coffee. Immediately, they both made a face. 

“Chet,” Roy said, “this coffee tastes like hot water with a brown crayon dipped in it.” 

“And these potatoes,” Gage added, “I’m thinking we could maybe use this stuff to smother a dumpster fire.” 

“Told ya’,” Mike chuckled, “instant food just plain tastes awful, Chet.” 

“It’s only progress if it’s edible, amigo,” Marco put in. 

“Bah,” Chet answered, “whadda you know? They haven’t even tried the soup yet!”

Roy looked over at Johnny, “’S’pose there’s any cold-cuts in the fridge?”

“Guys!,” Chet interrupted, “just try the soup. It’s good!”

Gage frowned, “All right, Kelly, I’ll try your soup.” He picked up the spoon and the bowl and gracelessly took a bite of the tiny noodles and re-hydrated vegetables. “Holy moly!” a wide-eyed John sputtered, “salty!” He looked around for something other than the anemic coffee to wash down the offending taste. 

“Too salty? Here, drink this!” Chet said, and put a large spoonful of orange powder in a glass, added some of the cold tap water, stirred briskly, and offered it to Gage. 

Johnny gulped down the neon orange liquid, then stood up from the table. “Yuck! That’s it, Chet! I am not eating or drinking one more bit of this powdered junk! What was that orange stuff supposed to be, anyway?”

“It’s Tang!,” Chet told him, “it’s like orange juice but more convenient! The astronauts use it, why can’t you?”

“I'm not an astronaut, Chet! And what’s wrong with real orange juice!”, John shouted back, “and real potatoes, and real gravy!”

“These *are* real potatoes, Gage! The package says so!”

Roy wisely chose to avoid the Kelly/Gage circus. He scraped the potato mush in the trash and placed his dishes quietly in the sink. While Chet and John argued over the merits of powdered food, Roy simply opened the fridge, pulled out some fixings, and silently constructed two large cold meat sandwiches. He poured two glasses of milk, found a bag of chips, and a took the bowl of apples and bananas and put everything on the other side of the table. He tapped John on the shoulder. 

“Eat,” he commanded. 

Gage whirled around and saw everything waiting for him, and saw Roy sit down and start eating. Chet and Johnny both fell silent. 

“See, Chet?,” DeSoto said. “I have a nice meal here- filling and fairly healthy, and it was ready in the time it took for you two to argue about the other stuff.” 

John smirked. “Thanks, pally.” He sat down, took an enormous bite of the sandwich and glared at Chet as he chewed. Chet threw the hot mitts on the counter angrily. 

“You guys never want to try anything new,” he snarfed. He went to sit on the chair by Marco and Mike. “These two liked the lunch, didn’t ya’, Marco!” 

“Uhhh…well…” Marco hedged, “actually, Mike and I took the last of the fried chicken and cole slaw.”

“What?!” Chet asked incredulously. “When did you eat that? I didn’t see you!”

“We took it in to Cap’s office and shared it with him so he wouldn’t have to leave his paperwork,” Mike admitted. “You were busy, uh, boiling water.”

Now Chet was really annoyed. “Fine. I’ll eat all this good food. You guys don’t know what you’re missing.” He plopped the last of the potato mush on a clean plate, poured the gravy on top and put a large forkful of it in his mouth and swallowed. The texture was that of wallpaper paste and the flavor was similar to what he assumed a shoe might taste like. The gravy, which he envisioned having a rich, beefy flavor, was more akin to a salt and motor oil combo. He tried to hide the disgust with a weak smile. “See? Delicious!” He poured himself a glass of plain water and chugged it. He wasn’t about to try the orange colored drink now that he had seen Johnny’s reaction. 

The others looked away and snickered. “Yep…delicious!” Mike laughed. 

Johnny and Roy finished their meals, cleared their dishes and washed their hands. “Well, let’s get our chores done before we get…” Roy started.

“Roy! C’mon, man! You gotta stop doing that,” Gage shot back as he followed his partner to the bay. 

Roy picked up a broom and shooed Gage toward the dorm. “Go make the beds, John.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I will. I hate changing all those sheets and redoing them. What a pain!" He stole a last look back and jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. "Now *that’s* something I’d like to be done in an instant!”


End file.
